


Hellfaker

by PallanMinerva



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Helltaker
Genre: Adventure, Comedy, Does it count as isekai if you go to Hell?, Don't Take This Too Seriously, F/M, Fluff, Honestly I just wanted to do something fun, Is Hell another world?, Isekai, Relationship and character tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PallanMinerva/pseuds/PallanMinerva
Summary: Hellfire and damnation was all he was supposed to find down in the depths of the Underworld, but instead, Shirou accidentally stumbled into yet another harem. And he had only just escaped the last one…
Comments: 14
Kudos: 70





	1. Personal Pandemonium

Shirou had always wanted to learn how to whistle. His father was, of course, not the type to try; the poor mood that he carried around did not seem congruous to something so cheerful, and Shirou did not know anyone else well enough to ask. Instead, as he ambled down the scenic route to the market, he absent-mindedly blew air through pursed lips and hoped that no one was around to hear him. He woke up even earlier than normal on Sundays specifically to catch certain early morning deals and the freshest ingredients.

On his shoulder he carried his trusty messenger tote, empty of everything save his shopping list, a small ice pack for meat, and a notebook and pen. Shirou had learned long ago that recording thoughts and ideas was essential to an organized life, and for several years now he always made sure to have a notebook on hand. It still left plenty of room for his purchases.

He didn't plan on buying much, given he only brought the tote, but the trip was also an important opportunity to make the socialization rounds. There were people here that had seen him come and go for many years, and keeping up with their stories was... kind of satisfying. As he emerged into the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, he felt reinvigorated by the hawking shopkeepers and the sound of life.

"Hoi, boyo!" Shirou smiled as he came to old man Kenta's shop. "Early as always, looks like!"

"Hey, old man," he replied, waving as he pulled out the ice pack. "The usual, please."

"Yup, I've got it right here." His elderly arms, still thick with muscle, reached beneath the counter and pulled out a few brown paper parcels. "How've things been going? You keeping up at school?"

"Yes sir," Shirou nodded, stashing the meat in his tote. "I'll definitely be graduating this year."

It was disappointing that the Holy Grail War had thrown his life so badly off course that he needed to repeat his final year of school, but it gave him more time to consider what _exactly_ he wanted to do. He had initially thought about being a lawyer or police officer, but dealing with the challenges and battles of the war gave him a sense of... emptiness in those ideas. Saving people felt abstract at that point, and the law did not defend the people who Rider had killed to survive on mana, or protect the victims that powered Caster's magecraft.

Shirou had been powerless, and continued to feel powerless, but at last he had found something resembling a purpose.

"Good, good!" A weathered hand clapped down on his back, sending him stumbling."I was worried for you last year!"

"I appreciate the concern," Shirou said with a smile, bowing his head. "Please give your family my regards."

"I will!"

With his bag now slightly weighted down, Shirou felt like his day had really begun. He had a plan, a schedule, and a firm idea of how his day would go. He was feeling good.

That feeling was short-lived, as moments later he tripped in the middle of the street, feeling like a complete idiot. Time slowed around him just so he could watch people's expressions as they saw him fall closer to the ground, concern and amusement warring in their eyes.

_And today was going so well, damn it—_

**[Sorry, Shirou. Isekai's gotta happen somehow, you know.]**

Shirou gasped, filling his lungs with air so hot it felt like it might ignite at any moment. His eyes shot open, and he could taste his heartbeat as he came to. He was no longer in Fuyuki.

The cavern was neither wide nor tall, but still spacious enough not to feel claustrophobic. Stalactites hung menacingly from the ceiling, and a river of magma slowly flowed along one wall, passing through an opening that led down into smell of damnation was in the air.

"Oh, good, you're finally awake."

Shirou turned and immediately recoiled as a large, disgusting, red bug creature made its way toward him. Compound eyes stared down from atop a fat carapace, and frighteningly thick teeth reflected the dim lighting.

"W-Wha—"

"Listen, I don't really have time to deal with you today," said the bug creature. "I'll make things quick. My name's Beelzebub, and you're in Hell. You're still alive, so you're going to have to find a way out of here. I'm not going to be able to help you right now, but if you survive for a little while, I'll see if I can find you and we can figure out an easy exit together."

"I'm in Hell?"

"Come _on!"_ roared the bug creature, making him flinch."I was hoping that _live_ humans would be more coherent, but _no_ ; just like the dead ones, you just brainlessly repeat _exactly what I say!"_

"But I don't—"

"Whatever," it said, and with one clawed hand picked him up by the arm with surprising gentleness. "Doesn't matter. You'll figure it out. This place is pretty self-explanatory anyway."

Shirou's head spun as he tried to process what was happening, so disoriented that he didn't scream until the bug creature opened the large door behind it and threw him out. He found himself falling down a _very_ large height, sulphur wind rushing around him and drowning his scream.

" _I'm in_ _ **Hell**_ _?!"_

For all that the dizzying altitude made him feel like he would be trapped falling for days or even months, it felt like only half a minute had passed when he hit the ground. To his surprise, rather than his entire skeleton shattering in the process of going from terminal velocity to null velocity, only his back complained at the impact itself. He checked himself after sitting up—all bones remained in place. He remembered what it felt like to break them, so it wasn't too hard to—

" _Ow!"_

Shirou held his nose as his messenger tote bounced off his face and fell into his lap. Realizing that it had weight, Shirou checked inside and sighed in relief as he realized that the meat he had bought was still there alongside his papers. Grunting, he hoisted it onto his shoulder again as he stood up. The ache wasn't going away, but he had gotten used to ignoring pain over years of magecraft training.

He was in another cavern, much larger this time, with vaulted walls and decaying columns collapsed around a large flat plain. Everything was colored in varying shades of crimson, both blood-red and firelight-red. Flames smouldered in braziers, casting shadows across the space. It seemed with every flicker of the light, shaded humanoids would move in and out of them.

His fists clenched. _Of course. It's Hell. Why_ wouldn't _I have to beat up some monsters? That's exactly how it worked in the Bible, right?_

Little did Shirou know that Dante Alighieri had long ago learned that it's more fun to bully people in Hell than to beat them up. Perhaps he was better off with that ignorance.

Not with ease but with practiced intent, the Married Blades chambered in the barrel of Shirou's mind. Honed by a future he planned to never live, imbued with experiences he hoped to never have, they were his most comfortable weapons. Despite having rarely used them, he knew them as if they were extensions of his own body. Another consequence of the Holy Grail War, one that he benefited from, but not without cost.

Shirou was not a type for sneaking, as much as he tried. He did not attempt to get the drop on any of these things, armored in white bone, but rather walked into their midst and approached the nearest one he stumbled across.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for an exit?" he asked politely. His only response was a growl and a lunge from the beast, forcing him to dart back. Projecting Kanshou from his mind, with a quick motion he slashed the beast's torso in half. He winced, expecting blood to spray all over him, but instead the two pieces exploded into a cloud of smoke and dust, making him cough.

"What the...?"

Bakuya appeared in his other hand as he twisted to bisect another monster that jumped at him, and the same explosion of smoke occurred. Shirou slowly made his way through the small crowd of beasts, his focus nearly as sharp as his blades, but a small voice in his mind continued to question what happened to them when he hurt them.

As the last one fell before him, Shirou grimaced.

_Don't even think about it. This is_ Hell _, you can't save anyone here._

He let that thought simmer for a few moments before moving on. After it was clear that no one else would attack him in the imminent future, Shirou let the projections go and readjusted his tote, following the twisting path of a tunnel that exited this particular cavern.

Passing under a set of arches decorated with runes that resembled eyes and an alphabet he couldn't begin to recognize, he found himself standing in the first real room he'd seen since arriving at this place. It resembled a box, stretching farther away from him than to the sides. A full set of torches provided a reasonable level of illumination, soothing his subconscious and revealing a wooden desk, complete with a person sitting behind it. and the only notable object was a wooden desk and the person sitting behind it. Her head was buried in a collection of books, clipboards, calculators, and even a laptop computer to her side. She muttered to herself as she flipped through pages and scribbled down notes, yawning loudly intermittently.

"Um, excuse me?" Shirou asked as he approached. "I'm looking for—"

"Bathrooms are back where you came from, two hallways down, sixth doorway on your left," the woman interrupted in a monotone.

"No, I don't need—"

"Appellate courts aren't on this floor," she continued, "they're a couple floors down, very bottom of the first circle."

"That's not—"

"Visiting hours depend on what circle the person you're visiting is on," she drawled, flipping another page, "but generally you'll have the most luck in the late morning. Guards aren't as sensitive then and won't kill you on sight. Ninth circle occupants don't have any visiting hours, though, so if your friend is down there, you're screwed."

" _Excuse me!"_ Shirou raised his voice in frustration. The woman stopped for a moment and looked up at him, round glasses framing a face lined with exhaustion. One eyebrow was raised in an unspoken question. "I'm looking for the exit," he said.

"...what?" She tilted her head to the side as she considered him. "What makes you think you can get out of here? You're in Hell. No one leaves Hell except the boss herself."

"I..." Shirou scratched his cheek uncomfortably and looked aside. "Listen, I got lost and stumbled down here somehow. I'm just trying to get home before my guardian gets back. Can you show me the fastest way out of here?"

"Did you not hear me right?" she said in a louder voice. "I said you can't—wait, you _stumbled_ down here?"

"Yes," he said patiently.

"Are you... alive?" she asked hesitantly, which made him pause.

"...yes?" he replied in the same tone. "Is that a problem?"

"Oh, fuck me." She buried her face in her hands, releasing an exasperated sigh. "Of course I have to deal with a live one right before I go on vacation. Damn it all. _Fuck!_ "

Shirou took a step back. _I didn't realize I would be such a problem..._

"Um..." he said after a few moments of silence. "Sorry?"

"Shut up for a second, please," she said. "I just... I need a minute. I haven't had my sixth cup of coffee. I'm not ready for this."

"Do you... want me to go make some...?" Shirou asked carefully.

Her head shot up, eyes alight with eagerness.

" _Please."_

"No problem. Where's your kitchen?"

"Kitchen?" She shook her head in amazement. "You're in Hell, kid. The only kitchens are the ones that cook people alive. We import food from the surface. The coffee machine is back where you came from, first hallway, second door on your right."

She folded her hands in front of her and gave him a very serious look quite unlike her previous expression.

"Depending on the quality of this coffee, I will either make this a quick and painless process, or..." She gave a small smirk. "I'll make your life a living Hell."

He groaned. _I should have expected this._

**[Yes, Shirou, you really should have.]**

She sipped at the mug softly, gently, and Shirou tried not to let the nervous rhythm of his heart show on his face. While he had been gone, she had brought in a regular wooden chair for him. It was uncomfortable even for him, when he had hoped she would at least be hospitable.

_Maybe that's expecting too much from a resident of Hell..._

"Well?" he asked after she had sipped at it a few more times, each time increasingly louder and more obnoxious. She tilted her head from side to side in thought.

"...I am considering if it's worth bearing your offspring now or waiting a few years for your brewing skills to get even better."

Were Shirou to be the one drinking, he would have spat coffee all over her. As it was, he choked on his own spit. She watched and waited while he pounded at his chest, trying not to suffocate.

"W-What?"

"Just kidding." The earlier smirk was back, having grown even larger and more devilish (a pun that also made Shirou groan). "You're good, I'll give you that, but you're certainly not the best I've ever had."

"O-Oh, uh, okay..." Shirou couldn't maintain eye contact and looked to the side, wishing he had a glass of water or something else to sip on. "So... are you going to help me?"

"Yeah, sure." She shrugged. "I'm bound by law to do so anyway, even if it's a bunch of bureaucracy I don't want to deal with—the amount of forms and reports that will need to be filled out after you're gone are _disgusting_ —but you do brew a mean cup, and a demon does keep her promises."

He sighed in relief. _Maybe that Beelzebub person won't have to come help me now. I wouldn't want to take up any more of their time._

"Thank you so much." He stood up and bowed deeply to her. "I greatly appreciate the trouble you are going through for me."

"Oh, please do mention it." Her smirk had not left. "I'm going to make you pay it back with many pounds of coffee. But count yourself lucky—I'm not draining you of your blood."

"You drink—"

She laughed in his face. "Not even close. We aren't vampires, and your blood, whether living or dead, tastes gross. So much metal. Nothing like the warm richness of..." She inhaled deeply and sighed. "Yeah, not bad at all."

"Right, um... when can we leave?" he asked, somewhat impatient to get going. _If Fuji-nee gets home and doesn't find me there..._

"So eager to leave me?" She quirked an eyebrow. "No, don't answer that. You're too easy to screw with, it's getting less fun. Let me finish this mug and we'll get going. Look forward to _lots_ of coffee-brewing in the future... what did you say your name was?"

"Shirou." He managed a smile. "Shirou Emiya. Yourself?"

"Hm." She looked him up and down. "Pandemonica. Not too much of a mouthful for someone who doesn't use a Latin-character alphabet, I hope?"

"A Latin..." He stopped. "Wait, aren't we speaking Japanese?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Hell is a universal entity expressed in various forms over a number of different faiths," she said, sipping at her coffee occasionally. "Everyone who comes here speaks a different language. We don't bother accommodating you, as you're in Hell, so right now you're speaking English. You haven't realized it, but there's a kind of magic here that warps your brain to have you speak English."

" _What?"_

Shirou replayed the last few minutes in his head, intensely thinking about the conversation they had had, and how it was spoken. As he thought about it, he could feel some kind of... obscurant cloud over the words being spoken. Their dialogue was fragmented in both Japanese and English, and the more he thought about it the more his head hurt.

"If you're wondering why English," she continued, "it's reflective of the dominant cultural language upstairs. A few hundred years ago it switched between French and Beijing-dialect Mandarin, and yes, it was as confusing as you're thinking. Ever since the British Empire created the largest sphere of influence, later replaced by the United States, we've been speaking in this weird tongue that's a mutt of Germanic grammar and roots mixed with Greek, Latin, and French."

Her expression tightened in disgust.

"I almost want to go back to Mandarin..." she muttered before raising the cup to her lips again. She frowned when she found it empty. "Hm. Alright, let's get going. You got your stuff?"

He tugged at his messenger bag again, then double-checked that all of his belongings were still there. Nothing had changed, and luckily the meat was still fine. "Yes."

"Good." She got up from her desk, closing the computer and stuffing her papers in a leather briefcase. "We're going to take the scenic route, because the boss loves the melodrama of taking humans through the whole place. ' _Look at how much we torture you after you die,'_ crap like that. If I take you any other way, she's gonna be pissed at me and then I'll have to fill out _more_ forms and I really don't want to deal with that hassle."

"Um, okay." He would have preferred a speedier exit, but considering how scary she could get on the turn of a dime, he kept his mouth shut. "Thank you again."

"Try thanking me again after we're done with all this." Her smirk came up again as she lifted her own briefcase. "It's gonna be one Hell of a time."

Shirou groaned again.

_This is going to_ suck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh no," I hear you say. "Not another story. Aren't you spread thin enough as is, you ass? I already haven't seen an update to _Ether of Hope_ in months, and when the hell is Shirou going to get to shoot more demons with Doomguy?!"
> 
> Take a deep breath. It's going to be okay. This was how _The Saga of Shirou's Summons_ was structured—maximum flexibility to work on whatever I like—and this will be how I write stories in general. I do have a vision for this story, though, and I'll see if I can update it relatively quickly, though don't count on it.
> 
> Helltaker really grabbed at me like no game since Doki Doki Literature Club has, and so I had to write something for it. Of course, being the one-trick hack that I am, it had to involve Shirou, and so you have this. For those coming from the Helltaker Discord with no experience in the Fate fandom, welcome! All you really need to know about the Fate parts was explained here, I think—Shirou Emiya is a 18 year old kid who can create swords and survived a magic tournament that changed him forever. That should be enough. Feel free to ask me anything on that Discord, or on my personal Discord! You can find the invite code to that on my profile page.
> 
> Thanks to my good friend **TungstenCat** for editing this chapter. It was alright before, but she made it look a lot better. I really appreciate that she did so.
> 
> Your ending theme is an AMV called _[This is (not) the greatest song in the world](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afZu1hxAQQ0)._, uploaded to YouTube by **camhcom**. Have fun with it.
> 
> And as always, thanks for reading.


	2. Starving Till I Tasted You

"Stop."

Shirou, good student that he was, instantly stopped in his tracks. He quickly imitated Pandemonica as she flattened herself against the wall. Frowning, he watched her squeeze into a tight crack in the wall, but before he could make a sound, she had already pulled him in alongside her. The walls began to close in on him and claustrophobia squeezed his throat. Only a steady breathing exercise helped him keep calm.

"Watch," she said, and he looked out to the cavern they had been walking through. A river—no, an avalanche of shadow fell through, a low rumble of a thousand hounds moving in unison. Their howls resonated in his bones, and their speed as they thundered just outside their hiding spot took his breath away. The cacophony of paws, stones, and the hunt left as abruptly as it had arrived.

"Nightmares," Pandemonica said as she pushed him out. "They prevent any of the damned on lower circles from falling asleep. If they catch you, you'll probably be torn to pieces over the course of a few eternities, all the while having a very dreadful set of dreams that prey on your worst fears."

"Oh." Shirou uncomfortably rubbed his shoulders and stretched his neck.

"Like I said before," the demoness sighed, "this is just part of the standard package." She drew in sharp breath, then recited in monotone, "All anxiety or severe trauma suffered are entirely within the bounds of section 56 subclause ℵ. If you are dissatisfied with the treatment received, you are invited to consult section 54 and file your complaint for the amusement of management."

She snorted quietly at his look.

"I'd be way more subtle than slobbery hounds if I wanted to fuck you over, I promise."

"That... doesn't make me feel much better," he said.

"It's not supposed to," she replied with a mocking smile, walking forward once more. Shirou hesitated for only a moment before following.

A sulphur smell suffused all of Hell, crawling in his throat to leave him always on the verge of choking. His only respite came in the form of small pockets of civilization, what looked like regular homes carved out of the cave walls lining their path. The caves ranged in size: from hallways just wide enough to accommodate traffic in each direction, to extremely large caverns that housed dozens to a hundred of these homes at once.

"These are the residential districts," Pandemonica explained wearily. "When we're not torturing your damned for eternity, we live normal lives as you do. We just occupy most of our time with making sure that you never have a peaceful moment ever again."

She ran a hand through her hair, looking every bit as exasperated as she sounded.

"In all seriousness, out of our entire population—which is one or two orders of magnitude below your own—only a fraction of a percentage point actually work in the damnation sector. Despite how many of you fuck-ups sin, the flow of new souls isn't actually enough to maintain a high level of growth. You see, there's a certain quota of sin required to actually be admitted—"

Shirou had long since stopped paying attention, staring instead at the crowded residential streets. There was a hustle and bustle that reminded him of home, only here everyone was female and sported horns. It was unnatural and yet so familiar. He hadn't been away from home long enough for any kind of homesickness to set in, but it jarred a certain part of him to see this scene before him without the comfort of his daily life.

"Oi."

Pandemonica was staring at him with a very cross expression. She reached over and grabbed the bridge of his nose, pinching with the strength of an industrial vise.

"Ow ow ow ow ow ow—!" Shirou attempted to maneuver his way out of her death grip but found that he couldn't move his head a single inch. "Stop, stop! I'm sorry!"

"No you're not," she replied humorlessly. "Otherwise you'd be able to tell me if Hell is endothermic or exothermic, like any good student would."

He would have protested, but agony offered excellent counterarguments to all his points. Instead he took her wrist in hand, enough to catch her attention without trying to pull her off.

"I'll make you some coffee and biscuits or something! Just please let me go!"

"Oh?" Her pinch lessened only slightly. "How are you going to do that without any kitchen?"

"I'll think of something, I swear!"

After a few more moments of Shirou feeling like the cartilage was about to snap, Pandemonica finally released him and dusted her hands off. The throbbing pain was enough to disorient him for a few moments, but he recovered quickly.

"Then we'll head to my apartment," she said, resuming her irritated trudge."Next time you get lost in your head, I'll slap you."

_Why do they always get physical?!_

The silence was cloying as Shirou followed after her, though he made every effort to keep his ears open for the merest hint of a word from his escort. _Nothing, of course_ , he sighed after a futile minute. _What was I expecting from Hell? A cheerful and eager tour guide, special deals on attractions? Come on, Shirou, get your act together._

They made their way down a long incline, and the paths they walked now filled with the people he had seen earlier. Occasionally a demoness' gaze would stray to him as they passed, but they did not pay attention for long.

_Just as well,_ he thought. _Wouldn't be polite to stand out too much._

They soon moved from the ordinary density he was used to from Fuyuki's neighbourhoods to the tight crowds and even more tightly crowded housing that reminded him of the few times he had visited Tokyo. Weaving through the throng, they passed by retail stores and restaurants, all bustling with life.

"Whoa..." he couldn't help but mumble aloud.

"Had you been listening to me," Pandemonica said, though her words lacked bite, "you would know that demon culture follows surface trends quite quickly. We are not backwards or medieval, and in fact—"

"Wait," he interrupted, and she hissed in frustration. "You told me there aren't kitchens. Why are there so many cafes? Are they just reselling food you get from the surface?"

She chuckled and looked at him as if he were a dog that just performed a particularly amusing trick.

"Sooner or later, you need to learn to trust less in the words of a demon, and more in their _intent_."

"Huh? What does that even mean?"

"I can only hope someone as intelligent as you will be able to figure it out," she said, continuing to walk.

" _Hey!"_

Soon after, they came to a highrise building that she led him towards instead of past. The doorway, simple ashwood with a distinctly European design, swung open automatically for her. She stepped through without hesitation. When Shirou attempted to do the same, the door swung back and smacked him in the face. Agony bloomed in his nose once more.

" _Ow!"_

"Oh, sorry," said Pandemonica as she opened the door again, not a hint of remorse in her expression. "I welcome Shirou Emiya into my house."

When he made no motion to move, she sighed and pulled him in by the forearm. Miraculously he made it through without further injury, despite his suspicion that the door would stub his toe or spontaneously grow an arm to punch him in the gut.

"Again, sorry," she said blandly as she climbed up a set of thin wooden steps. "We have magic on our homes to prevent anyone from entering without our explicit permission."

Shirou began to consider the criminal and legal implications of such an incredible piece of magecraft, but they had already arrived at her apartment, only one floor up. Again she opened the door, but this time Shirou was ready and waited outside instead of blindly walking through.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath before turning around. "I welcome Shirou Emiya into my home."

"Thanks," he said with all of the goodwill he could manage. "You're not going to have to do that for every door in here, are you?"

"Wanna find out?" she asked with a smirk, then shook her head. "Kitchen's on your left. Get brewing, bake-boy."

Shirou grimaced. Her kitchen was in a sorry state: dishes were piled up in the sink, microwave meal packages were strewn about her counter, a _lot_ of plastic bags filled with empty coffee pods were discarded next to a full trash can—

His inner housewife screamed inside.

"Yeah, this is gonna be a few minutes," he said.

"By all means," she said as she walked down the hall. "I'm going to take a bath and relax after all that walking. Peek and I will make earlier seem like a face massage."

He decided not to respond, reluctant to facilitate his role as her punching bag.

_Well, might as well enjoy this while I can..._

**[I think we need to have an intervention. Now he's taking care of** _ **other people's**_ **houses.]**

Shirou wiped the sweat off his brow as he tied the last trash bag. Without any help from Pandemonica, he had managed to clean her entire kitchen. The broom and garbage bags had been stuffed in the closet, covered in dust, and dealing with the mess that tumbled out had been a chore on its own. Then came the actual taking care of the kitchen, and it had literally been a full hour and a half before Shirou had finished packing away all of the debris.

"Wow, you actually did it." Shirou turned to see his host walk out in a new suit, exactly like what she had worn before but lacking a coat of dust. "I'm impressed."

She tilted her head to the side.

"But I don't smell any coffee brewing."

"I was keeping it warm," he said, taking the silicon cover off of the cup and handing it to her. Her eyes widened and she smiled, her lips free of any malice.

"Thank you." She took a long sip, then sighed. "A little better than before. Tastes more like home."

Pointing out the obvious felt too... obvious, so he decided to let it go.

"I also have some biscuits ready for you." He opened the toaster oven and pulled out a sheet of half a dozen steaming hot muffins with an oven mitt-covered hand. "Plain, because I couldn't find anything on short notice, but I think they still turned out well."

He plated two of them on a small piece of chinaware and placed it at the head of her table, a long glass sheet he had only just wiped clear of stains and marks. _She has the energy to make fun of me but not to take care of her home?_

She took a bite as she sat down. Shirou plated a couple more for himself as she chewed thoughtfully. This time he was not nervous. If nothing else in his life, Shirou had confidence in his cooking. He _knew_ he could satisfy someone with a meal. It was easy to make people smile, and by now, it felt like the only way—

"I am reconsidering my earlier offer," Pandemonica said. "Shirou Emiya, how do you feel about being my slave for the rest of time?"

"No thank you," he responded without hesitation. "I have to get home."

"Mm." She shrugged. "We'll see if I can convince you otherwise in the near future."

Someone knocked on the door.

"Hey, Pandi, something smells delicious!" A soprano voice called through. "You cooking something?"

"Son of a..." Pandemonica muttered. "Hold on a minute."

She took the coffee in hand, sipping at it as she walked over to the entrance.

"What do you want?" she said bluntly, opening the door.

"Oh, don't be like that!" Shirou caught a glimpse of the person in the doorway. She was very similar in appearance to Pandemonica; the only difference he could spot from here was that the newcomer had a larger chest. "You're cooking! We haven't hung out together in a while!"

Pandemonica groaned.

"Fine," she said. "I welcome Modeus into my home."

The named Modeus stopped a few steps into the apartment. Her eyes locked onto Shirou, and only then did he realize that her pupils were heart-shaped, something so off-putting that he physically took a step back.

"Wow," she said, crossing her arms and turning to the other woman. "You like 'em young, huh?"

Pandemonica spit coffee all over the floor.

" _WHAT?"_ she yelled indignantly.

"I mean, I don't blame you," Modeus continued. "I get those days where I feel like dipping into the teens myself, but this kid doesn't even look like he's in college. You're really going after minors?"

"No, you idiot, he's a human!" Pandemonica replied, the first time her composure had broken since he had met her.

"I got that, don't worry." The other demoness smiled amusedly. "I didn't think either of us were into the skeletons, jokes about being boned aside. Just... maybe wait a year or two?"

"Hey!" Shirou finally interjected, blushing. "I'm perfectly legal!"

She pointedly looked him up and down, and he shivered under a gaze that merrily ripped his clothes off.

"Uh-huh," she said, a lone eyebrow raised. "Age is just a number, right? Got a fake ID, too?"

"Just shut up already!" Pandemonica marched over to the table, grabbed one of the muffins from Shirou's plate, and threw it at Modeus. It landed perfectly in her open mouth, stopping her from uttering whatever she had been about to say, to Shirou's relief. She chewed down, moaned in delight, and quickly finished it.

"Gabriel's corpse, this is delicious!" she exclaimed, licking the crumbs off of her fingers. "Who the heaven made this? You never seemed like the baking type, Pandi, no offense."

"Offense taken," Pandemonica said, placing a hand on her hip. "This kid fell down somehow and I'm stuck leading him out. Turns out he's not a bad chef."

"Hey, what else can you make?" said the other woman, pushing herself a little closer. Though she was a few inches shorter than him, Shirou felt like she was trapping him in her presence. "I really like chocolate muffins, and the place that sells them closed for a little bit. Can you...?"

"Y-Yeah, I think I could," he said, awkwardly taking a step back.

"Okay, it's settled. I'm coming with you," she said, crossing her arms and nodding. "You might have heard it before, but my name's Modeus. Nice to meet you."

"Shirou Emiya, the same goes for you." Shirou almost sighed in relief. Finally, for once, he felt like—

"We're not staying here just so he can bake for you," Pandemonica said curtly.

" _What?!"_ yelled Modeus, spinning to face her. "But we're already here! I don't want to wait until we get to my house! Come _ooooon_ , Pandi!"

"No," the stern woman said, already gathering her things to leave. "Yours isn't that far. Learn some patience."

"I'm a _demon!_ I'm not _supposed_ to be patient!" Modeus whined. "Come on, please?" She turned to him, tears threatening to fall.

"Um..." This time, Shirou took two steps back. "I'd rather not. I really want to get home."

"Ugh! Fine!" She stomped and huffed, tears quickly forgotten. "We'll go to my house! But you better make some mean muffins!"

Shirou quickly rummaged through his mental store of recipes. He didn't want to be on the wrong side of her wrath. He had already felt the pain that one demon could inflict, he _really_ didn't want to go two for two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this exploded a bit more than I expected. Turns out people really do prefer loving demons over murdering them, comparing this to _Rust, Dust & Guts._ Not that I blame them, given the kind of cast we're dealing with.
> 
> My intent is to churn this out _relatively_ quickly, though I can never and will never guarantee any specific timeframe. This is a quick story made in good fun, and will probably have the same number of chapters that the original game has, even if it doesn't follow it in exactly the same way. I also want to give depth to the characters and setting; the dearth of specificities that Łukasz Piskorz gifted us with provides the opportunity to basically create original characters and setting, so this is an experiment on my part to do something like that. To be the most specific, I want to punch Dante Alighieri in the face for writing the most famous terrible self-insert fanfiction I've ever seen in my entire life. Fuck you, Dante, I'm going to make my _own_ Hell, and it's gonna have _cute demongirls_ and _muffins_ _!_
> 
> Ahem.
> 
> Thanks to **TungstenCat** and **KentaKazami** for taking the time to polish my weird syntax and grammar up. I appreciate all the help I get from you guys.
> 
> Your ending theme is [_Surface Tension_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nLkbhzmW6iM) by **Chris Christodoulou**.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	3. The Trouble with Triplets

“ _Mmm!”_

Few things could match the satisfaction of seeing people’s faces melt in delight after tasting his food. He was always happy to share the joy of a good meal with others, even moreso if they were still getting to know each other. Food smoothed over many awkward bumps on the path to friendship, and the road ahead was looking uncomfortably bumpy…

“I take back every mean thing I said earlier,” Modeus said after a few more seconds of purring over the muffin in her hand. “This kid has been the best thing that happened to us since that threesome with the Miraluka—”

“Hold on, let’s not weigh this crossover down with even more crap,” Pandemonica interrupted, nursing another cup of coffee.

“Fine, fine.” Modeus rolled her eyes. “Hey, how many of those have you had?”

“I drink at least six cups of coffee a day, one for each and every annoyance I encounter.” Pandemonica’s gaze drifted to Shirou. “You’re saving me from at least three right now.”

“Huh?”

“Am I one of those?” Modeus asked.

“What answer would offend you more?” Pandemonica replied with a smirk.

Modeus huffed. “Somehow, that one.”

“How long are we going to stay here?” Shirou asked, impatiently rapping his fingers on the near-empty muffin pan.

“Only a minute more.” Pandemonica meticulously scanned her suit jacket for crumbs before getting up. “I’ll use the restroom and then we’ll be off.”

Modeus finished her fifth muffin and picked up the last as the other demon walked out of the room. Her gaze drifted over to him, her unnatural eyes once again sending a chill down his spine.

“So?” she said after a little while.

“So what?”

“What do you think?”

“About?”

Modeus rolled her eyes.

“Playing dumb isn’t going to get you out of this conversation. Her. My best friend.”

“Oh.” Shirou rubbed the fading bruise on his nose, trying to come up with something polite to say. “She’s… kind of what I expected demons to be like, I guess?”

“Cruel?” Modeus prompted, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Sadistic?”

“That may be so,” he said, “but she didn’t kill me. She can’t be all that bad.”

“Of course she didn’t.” Modeus took another bite of the muffin, over halfway done. “We’re not actually allowed to kill the Living. The Lady Upstairs would be quite upset, and, well…”

Her smile grew strained.

“Last time that happened wasn’t fun for anyone.”

He was almost afraid to ask, but his natural curiosity got the best of him.

“What happened—”

“If you really, _really_ want the answer to that, ask me when I’m much less sober.”

Shirou swallowed the question, and she took another bite of the muffin.

The bathroom door creaked open.

“Anyone else need to go?” At the negative response, Pandemonica gathered her briefcase and walked to the door.

“This is going to be heaven on my legs,” Modeus whined, finishing the muffin. “Come _on,_ Pandi. Are we _seriously_ not allowed to take the normal tram down?”

“Article 3, section 29, subclause ƛ,” Pandemonica droned. “The Living shall arrive to the Bastion by way of the specific path outlined in the following subclause. Deviating, detouring, or diverging from said path in such a manner as to shorten the period spent traveling will result in a discommendation filed on the record of the Seeker, and potential lockout for the Living.”

“I _definitely_ think we should stick on the normal path,” Shirou contributed hastily, grabbing his bag from the chair. Modeus mumbled some choice swears as she put the pan in the sink.

“Hey, _you’re_ the one who decided to come with us,” Pandemonica said. “Things would have been just fine with me alone.”

“Don’t try to pretend like you wouldn’t throw him in the magma pond the second he wasn’t looking.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Shirou couldn’t help but notice the small smile that crept up Pandemonica’s face and he didn’t like it one bit.

“I thought you’re not allowed to kill the Living,” he said hesitantly.

“What, you’re telling me you can’t survive a few third-degree burns?” Pandemonica asked mockingly.

“No!” he replied. “What gave you that idea!?”

Her laughter followed her as she walked out.

**[Blah blah blah, another scene transition, blah blah, let's get to the demon girls already.]**

“We’re not lost.”

Shirou crossed his arms, for once not caring about upsetting his guide. At the very least, she was paying more attention to their surroundings than him. Modeus was sitting down, resting against the rock wall beside them. He gave it a few knocks.

“I’ve seen this piece of cliff face at least four times in the past…” He shook his head. “I don’t know how much time has passed, but it’s been _very_ recently.”

“That’s because we’ve been descending it, and thus have stayed next to it as we walk down,” Pandemonica said slowly. “I thought humans learnt basic spatial awareness at a young age.”

“Oh, we do,” he replied, pointing outwards. “That’s why I can say for certain that it’s the _same damn wall_. I can look across this stupid chasm, and I’ve seen this one crack that stays at my eye level no matter how far we move. I’m not _blind_ or _dumb.”_

“It’s farther than it appears,” she said quickly.

“Just admit that we’re lost already!”

“By the _Six Dozen,_ we’re _not—”_

“Pandi, stop trying to save face,” Modeus interrupted. “It’s not helping anyone. Just stop.”

After a pause, Pandemonica sighed.

“Where did we take a wrong turn?” Modeus said gently.

“We didn’t.” The other demon turned to face the two of them, her expression troubled. “The issue is that the mandated path hasn’t changed for a _very_ long time, and, well…”

Placing one palm to her cheek, she looked out at the chasm.

“We’re in an area that’s filled with Echoes of the last Rebellion. Spacetime distortions that twist at the senses and surroundings. Sometimes it just _feels_ like you’re walking in circles, and sometimes you actually are. Spotting the difference is near-impossible.”

She shook her head.

“I was under the impression that today wouldn’t be an active day… but it seems I was wrong. I _hate_ being wrong.”

Modeus stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll figure something out. It won’t last forever, right?”

The other demon shot her an indecipherable look before speaking again.

“No, it won’t, but their active period has been catalogued as lasting anywhere from one hour to over a week.” Pandemonica surveyed their group again. “When I packed, I thought I would be stopping at an inn, not camping out on this soul-scarred land.”

“What exactly is stopping us from leaving?” Shirou asked, and when she shot him a pointed look, he elaborated. “Is it that _we_ don’t know where we are, or we don’t know where we _are?”_

“It could be either or it could be both,” Modeus replied. “Echoes are insidious like that. There are a few beings that could cut through them with ease, but the chances of us stumbling upon them are slim-to-none. For the time being… we really are stuck here.”

Shirou looked back out to the chasm, watching the ebbing glow of the magma river at its trough.

“And if we didn’t go the same way that we have been going?” he asked. “What if we walk to the chasm instead?”

“I thought you said you weren’t blind or dumb,” Pandemonica snapped, the unexpected venom taking him aback. “Demons may be superior to humans in every possible way, but even we couldn’t survive a drop like this.”

To emphasize her point, she kicked a free rock over the edge. They watched it tumble down. It took a few seconds for the cracking sound of it hitting the ground to echo back to them.

“Any more bright ideas?” she snarked. He rubbed the bruise on his nose again.

“How does the illusion part work?” he asked, leaning against the rock wall.

“There hasn’t been a good study done of them,” Modeus replied, taking a seat again. “The first Lucifer banned them when they first appeared after the Civil War. All we know is that people who go in for too long…” She hesitated, looking at her hands again.

“…don’t come out?” Shirou finished.

“No, that would be too easy,” Pandemonica said, pensive. “They come out, but they are not the same. There is something off about them that is noticeable even by complete strangers. It’s like—”

“A crack in a mirror,” Modeus interrupted, pulling her knees to her chest. “The mirror hasn’t moved from where it was, the frame looks the same… but there’s something _wrong._ In the same way that your reflection is broken, their presence—the weight of their life and their bond with you—is warped. Broken. Cracked.”

Though her tone was light, he could feel the heavy weight of her words. The two demons exchanged a look that spoke volumes.

“So we’re in trouble,” he said after a while.

“On the bright side,” Pandemonica said, the sadistic edge of her smile gone, “we’re _probably_ not going to earn a discommendation for this unforeseen detour.”

Shirou slid down the wall to sit next to Modeus, and Pandemonica soon joined on her other side. Modeus, though stuck in the middle, seemed a little more at ease with the other demon beside her.

“We’re really just going to sit here and wait?” he asked.

“Got any better ideas, hotshot?” Modeus asked. “If so, we’d love to hear them.”

The silence felt endless.

“Wanna hear my life story?” he asked, and their answers were both instantaneous and simultaneous.

“ _No!”_

**[Dude, what is this? Where are the waifus? Stop fucking stalling.]**

Leisurely passing the time was not something that came easily to Shirou. He was the kind of guy to always want to be doing something, always moving, acting, tinkering with himself or his environment. Sitting around and doing nothing like this just made him itch, so he practiced subtly activating his circuits alongside some breathing exercises. It kept him calm and centered; reminded him of simpler times before the War.

He opened his eyes and found someone staring back at him. Large eyes, blood red iris, curiosity which killed a cat—

“ _Ah!?”_

“You don’t look like a demon,” said the girl.

“Nor a devil,” said another girl that looked exactly like her, standing to her left.

“And you smell…” Yet another one to her right.

“Alive?” The three said at the same time.

“Hah?” he replied before shaking his head and slapping his cheeks. “Um, yeah, I’m alive. Is that—?”

“So you’re a human?” The center girl got even closer to his face, her eyes bright.

“No, I can’t assume he’s human,” said the one on the left.

“But the smell!” Shirou flinched as the girl on the right got even closer and sniffed at him. “It’s exactly like how a human would smell!”

“I’m human, I’m human,” he assured them. “I got lost down here and I’m trying to get back home.”

“Where is home?” asked the one on the left.

“Fuyuki—”

“Do you live alone?” asked the one on the right.

“I’m not sure how that’s—”

“How did you get stuck here?” asked the one in the center.

“Well, all I know is I—”

“What’s your name?” He couldn’t even tell that time.

“Shirou Emiya.” It was a relief to finally be able to finish a sentence. The three let out a sigh at the same time, each holding different expressions of awkwardness.

“Sorry, I got a little excited,” the center one spoke. “I haven’t seen anyone in a… long time, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” Shirou answered, and without thinking reached out to pat her pead. He managed to get a few solid pats in before he realized how he had just intruded on another person’s space. He quickly retracted his hand. “Uh, sorry!”

“ _Why did you stop.”_ The three of them glared at him at the exact same time, in the exact same way, and not for the first time Shirou felt very, very far away from home.

“…sorry?” he repeated, but again reached out to provide headpats to the center one. Strangely enough, the other two reacted the same way as the one he touched did—a warm sigh and a relaxing of posture.

“Haaaaauuuuh…” Shirou almost felt like he was doing something indecent. But they _had_ asked for it… he placed his left hand on the one to his left and began to headpat her as well.

“ _Too much!”_ she squeaked.

“Oh, sorry!” He ignored the uncomfortable sensation in his chest that sound sparked and focused on the center one once more.

“…so this is where you disappeared to.”

_Oh shit._

He slowly turned to the right. Pandemonica was… unamused was putting it lightly. She was twirling a pen in her right hand—not a ballpoint, a real fountain pen with a very sharp end.

“You left us for a headpatting orgy,” she said bluntly.

“Now hold on,” he replied, “you’re making an assumption—”

“You _left us_ for a _headpatting orgy,”_ she repeated.

“I only just woke up here!”

“Haaaaah…” Finally, the center girl took his hands off of her head and took a few deep breaths. She then turned to Pandemonica, her expression darkening. “What do you want?”

“That human is mine,” said Pandemonica. “You’re infringing on my property.”

“I take offense to—” he started.

“You didn’t have him on a very tight leash,” said the one on the right.

“You need to keep your stuff locked down better,” said the one on the left.

The pen stopped for a moment before resuming its spin.

“Indeed, I’ll be sure to keep him chained up from now on.” She wasn’t even wearing the sadistic grin she’d normally have with a statement like that. His worry was increasing.

“Pandi, did you find him?” Modeus soon joined her friend, stopping just behind her and to her right. “Ooh, I can feel the sexual tension spiking!”

“Uh, I think that’s just regular tension,” Shirou said.

Modeus shrugged. “You can convert any tension to sexual tension with the right words.”

“Not the _time,_ Mode,” growled Pandemonica. “My kitchen slave has been captured by a _Kerberos.”_

“Not _a,”_ corrected the middle one, “ _the_ Cerberus.”

“There is only _one_ of me,” said the left one.

“But… there’s three of you,” Shirou said.

“Three bodies, one mind,” said the right one, as if it wasn’t a revelation that the mind was separate from the body and that a single consciousness could spread out among multiple distinct physical entities.

“Okay, everybody calm down,” Modeus said, holding her hands up in an appeasing gesture. “We’re just taking him to the Gate to get him to the surface.”

“Wait, you’re going to the surface?” The center body spun around and grabbed his head, staring into his eyes and deeply unsettling him. “Hey, hey! Take me with you!”

“Uh, is that allowed?” Shirou looked at Pandemonica for confirmation, and in the hopes of some help. She shook her head, the pen slowing to a stop in her fingers.

“Demons need special passes to go to the mortal world,” she explained. “And the likelihood of one being issued to a Cerberus—”

“ _The_ Cerberus,” the left one corrected again.

“—is very, very small,” Pandemonica continued. “You would have to plead a case to the boss herself, and I can’t picture her doing so. _Kerberos_ aren’t looked at in a good light. They used to be the guards to Hell, but time passed and politics shifted and the Sentinel Hounds fell out of favor.”

The bureaucrat crossed her arms.

“So this is where you all disappeared to…” she said, more to herself it seemed than as part of her explanation. Modeus looked at her friend for a moment before turning to stare with some worry at the trio and him.

“I am the _only_ remaining Sentinel,” the center body growled, getting off of him and facing the other two demons.

“But how do you expect to leave this place, anyway?” the right body said, and the left leaned on the center with a mocking smirk.

“You’re trapped,” she said, “and you’re not going to get out for a while… unless you find a guide.”

The pen in Pandemonica’s hand snapped and her expression hardened.

“Absolutely not,” she said.

“Do you have the luxury to refuse?” the right body asked.

“You two may survive for a while, but how long will he?” The center body pointed with a thumb back at him.

Shirou grimaced. He had eaten some of the baked goods he had made for both Pandemonica and Modeus, and had a few glasses of water as well, but that gave him three days—no, less.

_Pandemonica said this could last a week or more…_

“All I want is for you to get me a pass upwards,” said the left body. “Is that really so hard?”

“I _refuse,”_ Pandemonica said, her frown nearly turned into a snarl.

“Pandi, they—” Modeus stopped herself. “…she might be right. We need to get out of here.”

_Stop being useless, idiot! Think! How can you solve the situation without turning to violence?_

If it came to it, Shirou believed he could try to kill this… person, but he wasn’t entirely sure he could win. By Pandemonica’s example, she was _far_ stronger than him. His swords might not be enough to end her. He looked between the two groups, racking his brain as he tried to come up with an answer.

And then he spotted his bag, carried by Modeus. It hit him.

_Okay, food—she might have been sort of lying before but I know that beef is still good. I have to try!_

“Modeus!” he called out, making everyone apart from one of Cerberus’s bodies turn to him. “My bag, can you open it and pull out what’s in the cooler?”

“Uh, sure.” She pulled open the flap and reached in, Her eyes widened as she pulled out the still-fresh slice of beef. “Shirou, what the—you were carrying this the _whole time?”_

“I bet you haven’t had any good food in here for a while, have you?” Shirou asked, slowly standing up and looking at the center body. “I can cook up a very nice dinner with that for you once we’re out of here.”

The right body, facing the other two demons but glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, swallowed. The center one crossed her arms.

“…not a bad offer,” she said. “But that is a short-term gain for a long-term loss. I will not let up on wanting to leave.”

“How about this:” Modeus offered, putting the beef back inside the bag, “we can’t _guarantee_ that we’ll get you a pass, but we can argue your case. If you maintain good behavior as we make our way down to the boss, that will help a lot as well. It will be a longshot, but we can _try.”_

Pandemonica’s fist tightened around the broken shards of her pen, but she said nothing. The silence felt hours long.

“…acceptable,” the center body finally said, still looking at him. “A meal and a guarantee to try your hardest to argue for a pass.”

“If you renege on this agreement…” the right body started.

“…I will not be merciful,” the left one finished, letting her fingernails grow into long, impossibly sharp claws. Shirou gulped.

“…fine,” Pandemonica said. “Now get us out of here.”

“You will _not_ order me around,” growled the right one.

“Okay, okay, hey,” Shirou interrupted before the situation could escalate again, placing a hand on the shoulder of the center body. “I’d really like to get out of here. The faster we leave, the faster I cook you a delicious steak. Let’s not fight, please?”

The center body smiled as brightly as she had when they had first met.

“I think I like you already,” she said.

“I call dibs!” the left body shouted before suddenly spinning around and jumping onto him.

“ _Wha—”_ Shirou’s back hit the wall as her weight was thrusted onto him. He groaned but managed to stay upright as she clambered around him. “ _What are you doing?!”_

“Oh, come on!” said the right one. “ _Now_ I choose to manifest separate personalities?”

“Rule of dibs always wins!” said the body that was now _sitting on his shoulders._ ”You’re now my steed for the rest of this journey! Onwards and upwards!”

Oh he was _not_ comfortable with this.

“I want to turn in my resignation!”

“Denied!” she replied brightly, roughly patting him on the head. It did not feel anywhere near as good as she had made it look earlier. “I’ll get down when you get cooking!”

He groaned.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, class, what have we learned over the past few months? Well, besides the fact that Hell is looking a lot better than the surface these days.
> 
> That’s right! _Never expect me to make even a soft, implied deadline._ Clearly I overestimated my font of inspiration. This chapter went through no less than four rewrites, and I struggled so hard to balance worldbuilding with humor without making either too overwhelming. It was exhausting. But I’m fairly happy with what came out of it. I already have ideas for the next couple of chapters, but I will not make any kind of assumption about when they will come out. However, I can see the ending of this story, and given how long Helltaker is on its own, I know I can make it there.
> 
> Thank you to user Forgetful on Spacebattles for suggesting the new title for this story. It still makes me smile.
> 
> Thank you to my Loresingers, who again managed to comb this chapter in just two days after I finished it and polish it to a shine.
> 
> Your ending theme is [_Under Pressure_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a01QQZyl-_I) by **Queen**. Heh.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
